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by Bellatrix's Weightless Tears
Summary: Andy is given Miranda's little red journal, after Paris. She of course decides to approach Miranda with it.


Miranda really needed an orgasm and also a competent assistant to get her coffee order right.

Like Andrea always did exceptionally perfect for her.

Her coffee not the orgasm.

Her face flushing at thinking of orgasms with that perpetually smiling brunette.

With that big only person ever disappointment's face looping in her head again, like every day since she left, Miranda sharply swiveled her chair to face the windows, staring out fixedly at nothing in general.

Andrea Sachs infuriated her so much. Without even being at Runway now.

Like that smile of hers this morning burned her up inside.

Every morning since last week, she was seeing the brunette again and again, standing on the curb across from her, the running away brat waited and waved to her, like some sort of friendly gesture Miranda was forced to endure that was only welcome and practiced in places like Iowa or Idaho and happened at bingo halls or frequenting diners with refills from waitresses named Wendy not here in Manhattan and not done at her, and not as she was stepping out of or into her limo, the gauche silly thing even sent her coffee from one of those vile bodegas via Roy yesterday and now today.

In one of those common blue and white paper cups.

She took a prim sip. It was actually quite good. But only poured and drinking from this mug she uses lately, placing it down.

Why did Andrea do this?

Was this sending her coffee now some hostile act against her, her former boss?

Her actual paid assistant was supposed to fetch her coffee. Not Andrea anymore.

Andrea hated her.

And Andrea didn't even work for her anymore.

So why do this for her?

For what purpose, she could not understand it. She didn't sign Andrea's pay cheques anymore for her to have to feign caring if she ever got her coffee in this working week again. Or ever.

She was not even Andrea's concern anymore.

Irv Ravitz was his usual self, earlier in her afternoon's meeting with him, warning her darkly about budgets.

Rubbing her temples tiredly, turning back in her chair to sift through paperwork stacked on her tray that needed her signature or attention. Cassidy and Caroline were at their father's this weekend so she could work tonight till past midnight without having to be home.

The Book was not ready.

Debating telling Emily to go early for the night and summarizing that this probably would give the redhead cardiac arrest, Miranda stared at her computer screen, yes she'd do that and even let The Book wait and not peruse it just once, for one night not have to think of it.

Ruminating on this as her tapered fingers rimmed the mug Andrea had left behind, it wouldn't cripple Runway's stock worth for their Editor to leave before ten tonight and go home would it?

Home.

To what exactly?

She dully went over her routine tonight in her head, she'd just pod-like click shut down on her computer, stand and go get her coat herself.

Slip into the backseat of the waiting for her polished Mercedes, Roy would drive her wordlessly as she listened to classical playing softly sitting ramrod straight in the buffed leather passenger seat as he'd pull up to her empty townhouse.

Disarm her door, and sift sort through her mail, Miranda would have dinner alone at the island in the middle of her modern kitchen, Patricia wasn't even here to keep her company or cuddle in bed with.

Then undress and watch something on television anything but documentaries or nature shows on birds, Stephen loved that, deciding she'd likely read in a bed, Stephen once slept beside her in.

That was her expected full evening this Monday.

It was just after nine now. Seeing that Emily was loyally typing away at her desk about to call her in, but first making a call about The Book herself, deciding that yes, she would look at it tomorrow morning.

It would still be full of mistakes she would have to point out.

The Art Department could barely answer their phone and went mute discovering it was herself on the line.

That was sorted, now for telling Emily to go home, no doubt sending Emily off would make the edgy redhead need to be fed a valium at being told this and also graciously give her permission to even turn off her phone.

Just for tonight.

Miranda drew her brows together, she was at times considerate of her assistants.

Miranda stretched her legs beneath her glass desk, thinking how a bubble bath would be so needed but now saw that Emily was answering a phone call which she transferred to Miranda quickly.

Picking it up, Miranda discovered, it was Runway UK's Editor, Fiona with an issue crisis.

Wishing she hadn't taken the call as Fiona launched into many questions about every little thing needing her guidance for the next issue. Assuring coolly that Marc Jacobs paired next to Caroline Herrera and the new Gucci on the other page was not the apocalypse about to unfold.

Clasping the phone itself like squeezing a neck as scans were being sent that needed her attention immediately.

Knowing she'd now be here till after midnight, now a far off wish of soaking in relaxing bubbles, Miranda clicked on what was sent, holding the phone to her ear, clenching her teeth, almost wanting to call a country vet for Fiona and quick courier horse tranquilizers to Runway's UK office on Bond Street to not stress.

"Miranda!"

Was Andrea out of her little Midwestern mind, Emily just stared, and froze, holding the phone out, looking completely gob smacked.

Andy Sachs was here.

And walking right into Miranda's office.

Blue eyes narrowed on the brunette wearing _jeans_ and also striding purposely into her office.

"Fiona, I will have to call you back."

Placing her phone down. Miranda's eyes the color of wintery sea coldly pierced into Andy's. Her arched eyebrow twitches.

"There's a sound that is made when knuckles encounter doors, that's customarily used before entering. I don't know if you've ever heard of it, Andréa. It is called knocking."

Andy lips twitched up. "I'll have to try it sometime. Miranda."

"Miranda I'll call _security_." Emily proclaimed, her eyes huge on Andy.

"No. Emily. Don't. Go for the evening. I will handle _Andréa_ myself." Miranda elegantly got up and shut her office door as Emily went through looking back bewildered.

 _Handle Andrea._

Emily glanced for a sec, back between them uncertainly, the miss nothing redhead studied her ex colleague who just decided to show up in scruffy jeans to see Miranda tonight.

Silently hoping Andrea didn't make this week and month intolerable for her.

She did that just brilliantly after Paris.

Emily looked back at Miranda whose face was evinced with pure tension.

Bugger Sachs.

Tomorrow's workday would be just bloody crap now.

Emily almost said it, what Nigel was so wrong about, _that they_ needed a room or a bed, over her Yorkshire tea she'd sputtered out one morning in Andy's first month, Nigel voiced this completely delusional idea that he felt there was this sexual tension needing to be released between blobby Andrea and Miranda.

Insisting on it, leaning his fuchsia Thomas Pink sleeve on the counter, "It always been there, Emily didn't you notice?"

Emily briskly reminded Nigel that Miranda was married. To a man-a man child. Well not anymore to that total bastard.

Stephen Tomlinson.

Liaising between his and Miranda's lawyers made Emily never consider matrimony.

Nigel was clearly insane or as she declared that the office clearly wasn't being properly ventilated. Andrea did not want to get to Miranda's knickers or in them.

Emily assured this as she sloshed her teabag into her mug. Pointing out with her spoon that Andrea had a boyfriend.

A bit of 'rough in her opinion, Andy's Nate the fryer as she'd endured hearing about _him_ for months stuck in side by side desk purgatory.

Andy was happy talking to air because Emily was not really listening to who she for a week referred to as _'The American is talking to me again,'_ how Nate was always being difficult, how he got so upset he didn't get a Magnolia lavender cupcake one night, Emily did not want to hear or be shared with any depraved kinky sex stories.

Sharing workspace together made Andy really chatty and Emily knew she had never conveyed any interest in ever learning about the stupid selfish cow's love life or her life growing up in overalls, but slowly with Andrea being just Andrea, she horridly made Emily's frosty wall begin to crack with that sunny blimp's way around her.

It was simple. Nigel was ass over tit wrong.

Also Andrea hated Miranda.

Completely.

Paris was proof enough and it was clear as day with all her boring paperbacks that belonged only for loo reading. How she thought of herself as brainier and better then everybody here at Runway. Including Miranda.

Splashing skim milk into her cuppa, taking a sip irritably.

Nigel next words of how Andy and Miranda needed to fall into bed together and bang any bedstead against a wall made Emily choke out more of her tea.

It was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. Slamming the dishwasher door as Nigel ate his breakfast.

Nigel looked at her sideways. "Now, now red. Your Mummy substitute will not be deflowered by Six's polyblend."

Em's face went beetroot. _Miranda w_ as not her Mum. How could he say that?

Roy texting in to her, that Miranda was enroute.

Emily refused to even deign Nigel's bloody insane words with another thought on them. She did not wish to think of it any further.

Fixing her McQueen in the small kitchenette stainless steel reflection.

Seeing it, Andrea's mug on the sink, washed, puzzled by it, why had it never been binned?

Miranda might see it. It was atrocious.

Chewing her nail, pondering on this thought that Andrea did dress like a reject Annie Hall lezzie though. With that eyesore blazer.

That and she wore footwear cast off from a Tolstoy Siberian refugee.

Now. Holding her crutches to her sides, Emily almost felt it in the room, it was back again, radiating with Andrea being herself and annoying Miranda with even breathing near her.

Miranda said she could go. So she was.

She wasn't going to be their referee tonight, both of them had to sort this out themselves and she was going to bugger off home as she was told, taking one last almost protective look at Miranda and giving Andy a stink eye as she brushed by _of don't upset her tonight, if you have any white matter in that blinkered idiotic head of yours._

Emily left as Miranda wanted, grabbing up her purse and coat heading with crutches towards the elevators. She was gone.

Miranda didn't offer Andy a chair.

"Explain yourself. Right now. You have five minutes and I am counting." Miranda folded her arms of her black Chanel suit at Andy, making needle eyes at her.

How dare she barge into her office as if she had a right to do so?

Giving that reference for her, clearly went to her fat head.

That and clearly her accepting of those cups of coffee was going to Andrea's little head.

Just because she drank them, didn't mean Andrea could just drop by. Not like this.

Those java beans were not heralds of come be my friend now.

Blue eyes fell coldly on her, waiting for an explanation to her. Seeing that Emily left hastily as she could on crutches, it was just both of them in the office now.

"Miranda. I want to say how I'm sorry. I wanted to apologize for being so selfish, with leaving Runway- _you_ like I did." Andy mumbled out.

"For treating you like that. I am sorry. Mainly for _hurting you_ in how I left."

Miranda tilted her head a little.

Andrea hurting her? With how _she_ left. Of all the ridiculous ideas in Andrea's miniscule head. She wasn't hurt.

Not by some silly little assistant who she let ride in elevators with her, or who saw her without make up on or once stared at her like she was an alien with big brown eyes like saucers, at her taking a powdered donut offered to her and staring at the sugar stuck to her fingers and trying to subtly lick it off.

"You're sorry. Well now I can go on now, knowing that Andrea is sorry." Miranda's mouth thinned on her, her eyes meanly holding hers.

"Leave." Flicking her manicured hand towards the door.

"Stephen gave me this," Pulling it out of her back pocket, holding it out.

Miranda's eyes slid to it. The small red journal.

 _Oh god._

Stephen _gave it_ to Andrea…why would he do something like that to her now?

Knowing why, he wanted to humiliate her to Andrea completely. That wankpuffin bastard.

Had she read it? Willing silently reeling in her head for it to be so, to please tell her, Andrea. Can. Not. Read.

Recalling vividly how Andréa always had her nose in some paperback on lunch hours. Light reading to her was The Duchess of Malfi or Wharton or Kafka.

Miranda had bristled at the time and felt it was a not so subtle reference to all at Runway, with each dog-eared titles held to her nose as Andy took forkfuls of her lunch it communicated. 'I'm smarter than you and your silly designer clothes.'

Miranda at the time insisted the smell of secondhand paperback pages affected her sinuses.

She wanted to squeeze Stephen's snooping neck. Her red book. It always was in her nightstand. Why had she ever written anything down in pen? Pages full of private things. Things she wanted Andrea to do to her.

That were fantasies.

"Here."

Miranda saw it held, between Andrea's long fingers offering it back.

Andy held it out to her as their fingers brushed lightly. Miranda let out a gasp at the grazing contact, pulling her hand away immediately, splaying her fingers out as if a current ran through it.

"I need you to leave."

Andy's brows came together, with a firm obstinate. "No."

Moving closer to stand over her, larger than Miranda. "I'm not going to do that. Miranda."

Miranda's lips thinned, her face convulsed with anger and embarrassment. "I said leave. Andrea. Like you did so well in Paris."

Not moving to go like Miranda wanted.

Miranda took her arm, her fingers lacing in a stronger grip around Andy's elbow. "Will you ever just do as I say and want, just once Andrea. Do this."

"Fine. Order me."

Dropping Andy's arm. " _What_ did you say?"

" _I said_ order me. Tell me what you want. Like you wrote in that." Andy quirked a sensual smile at her.

Miranda stared at Andrea truly stunned, raising one of her hands to her lower lip and tapped it lightly.

"I read all of it. What you wrote. Miranda."

Miranda frame went rigid. Her face stiffened as she looked everywhere but at Andrea. "Did you?"

Her unfathomable eyes went almost liquidly and blurred, knowing Andrea had read this, turning it over in her hands. How could she look at her? She must seem like some _old pervert_ to her ex assistant.

Vivid moist blue grayed to coldness, was Andrea holding this as advantage over her.

"So, you want to obey me, it is like that, is it, Andréa?"

"Yes, Ms. Priestly," Andy answered in a subdued tone, her dark head inclined down. Eyes lowered to the cream carpet.

Miranda swallowed, Andrea calling her that, taking her by surprise. Addressed like how she wrote she wanted. No. Andrea was just making fun of her. Studying her face carefully, seeing no humor in it.

"Miranda, just help me be freed of you." Andy shared out lowly.

Freed of her? It wasn't like she held Andrea chained to her.

Fine if it's what Andrea wanted. She'd begin this. Maybe it would help her be released to. From whatever the hell this was between them?

Licking her lips, a habit her mother told her not to do.

Touching her collar as she walked, trying hard to control her trembling inside, and walking elegantly back over to her desk, dimming the lights as Andy's next words suggested. Tapping her nails on it. Nervous. How should she initiate this?

Flickering unsure blue eyes flitted over to Andrea, not knowing how to begin?

"Just be like what you wrote."

Be the way she wrote. Miranda's eyes slid away from Andrea. Oh god. Pinching her nose bridge, crossing her legs primly, taking off her glasses.

"No… leave those on for me."

Stephen never liked them on her, pushing them on again with the back of her hand.

Alright her glasses stayed on, smoothing down her long skirt. Nervous. Be what she wrote. Plucking at lint on her sleeve. Fine. Andrea asked for it.

Picking up a few files, in her hands. Here goes.

Wait why was she walking away now, Andrea wanted this? Didn't she?

Typical, leave her sexually frustrated without doing anything yet or usually opening her big mouth to upset her.

Craning her head to a side, searching for Andrea, was she making a mockery of her and her desires by walking out on her, a final full payback for every coat tossed at her and hot coffee brought and cruel word uttered, uncertain blue eyes blinked in the dull light and found her.

Andy slid into Emily's chair outside her office. Waiting for her. To begin this or not. Making out a bent head of that ungovernable hair.

Enunciating each word softly out. "Andrea. Come. Here to me."

Seeing Andrea obeying made Miranda almost falter. Squaring her shoulders, Andrea said she wanted this.

"Did you do everything I told you to, Andrea?" Miranda demanded of her as Andy entered her office, holding one of Emily's notepads like so many times before.

As if Andrea still worked here with that cocksure ready smile fading at Miranda's stance.

"Yes, Ms. Priestly." Andrea's voice was subservient, docile, and her dark eyebrows knit together in concern.

"Has everything been done that I asked for?" Waspishly cold and clipped to her.

"Yes, Ms. Priestly, exactly as Ms. Priestly ordered." Andy moved closer to Miranda so she was pressed up against the glass edge of the desk and accidently brushed.

"What would Ms. Priestly like from me?" Andrea asked, her face submissive.

"Step over there."

Andy did so.

"Turn for me."

Andy obeyed.

"I need you to take that shirt off. Now."

Andy's hands began unbuttoning her shirt. Quickly, working to undo the buttons.

"Stop… Slowly. Take. Your. Time." Miranda warned out.

Andy did so, taking her time unbuttoning it with great care holding Miranda's blue eyes and letting it slip off her shoulders as she shrugged it off.

Miranda's mouth went dry, her gaze completely mesmerized on her.

Andrea stood in just her bra and faded jeans, intense blue was drinking in Andy's skin.

Strolling closer, reaching out to almost touch the white cotton cups but retracting her hand.

Running her fingers along Andy who moaned out. Fingers traced above her belly button and brushed to her waistband.

"I want to smell me on your fingers."

She couldn't do this. Andrea was going to any minute laugh or call her disgusting.

"Put it back on."

Andy looked puzzled now.

Seeing Miranda curled up almost against the glass desk and warring with herself.

"I think we shouldn't do this … I am sorry if my entries made you feel in anyway uncomfortable…please just dress and just forget this. Forget me. Please go. And don't send me coffees anymore."

Hoping Andrea would just be nice about this and leave and never send her coffee again or wave.

Knowing to well, she was a silly old woman. A kinky silly old woman. Letting out a tight breath.

Pulling on her shirt but not buttoning it up. "Forget you, Miranda?" Shaking her dark rich brown head at that.

"I can't do that and _I don't_ want to. What I want is for you to just let me start this. Won't you just yield a little?"

Miranda hunched her shoulders.

Andy scraped her own scalp with her nails, frustrated, exhaling out through her teeth. "Miranda, how can we even have a date with your attitude?"

What, her attitude? Her yield? Why her? Miranda's brows came together incensed.

Her face trembling between that annoyed why must you Andrea always push my buttons to just taking in the brunette's words slowly, of wait-Andrea said it - a date.

Her ears pinking.

Realizing Andrea didn't find her entries disgusting and wanted to go out on dates.

Her eyes lit. Almost leaning up to kiss her which Andrea stopped.

Holding her own blue eyes on hers which were like honeyed chocolate, her mouth inches from hers. "Fine here's me yielding a little."

Andy's face split into a big grin at Miranda's smile quirking unsurely to hers. It was strange to discover Miranda could smile.

Andy was so use to it always pinched up.

"You're yielding to me?" Gesturing between them both with her pointer finger.

"Apparently." Miranda informed.

"Yes, Andy you mean." Andy's brow drew together in full disbelief.

Miranda testily sighed out in a huff. "Yes. Andy." She was not making a constant habit of calling that nickname Andy which was so boyish and the way she liked.

"Bout time. Let's try this again. Ms. Priestly."

Miranda made to shake her glossy wave of white. Andrea didn't have to do that now.

Andy's arms came side by side with her in between them, looking into blue eyes as her mouth was inches away from Miranda's curved lips as she uncrossed these long legs with one hand slipping between Miranda's legs, parting them, as Miranda remained still, moving her palms up her sides and gliding up with her fingers caressing the silk hose slowly up her inner thighs.

"Does Ms. Priestly need me any further?"

" _Andr_ -Andy, you really don't have to do this." Miranda's words died on her lips at feeling Andy's hand which was now not staying but sliding right between her hosed legs and those dark eyes holding hers.

It felt warm through the sheerness.

"Does Ms. Priestly need me any further tonight?" Waiting for her instructions.

"No, Andrea. You may go." Miranda flicked her hand out. Seeming unaffected. Inside she was all wobbly and jelloid, was Andrea actually going to do this with her. Now.

Thank god she'd been to Davide's salon on Fifth this Monday.

"Come on Ms. Priestly remember you said you'd yield to me."

Andy took her hand, as if she intended to kiss it.

Instead turning Miranda's pale hand over in hers, clasped firmly and pressed her lips to her palm, sucking the soft delicate skin up into her mouth so that Miranda felt her teeth and the warmth of Andy's breathe and then she began to tongue it.

Andy held her wrist prisoner and raised her head up to meet Miranda's eye.

"You may go, Andrea," Miranda ordered imperiously.

Seeing Andrea not doing so. "I said you may go."

"I think not, Ms. Priestly," Andy said, and still grasping Miranda's hand strongly, she pulled it forward and downward so that it rested on the front of her jeans.

"Stop that, Andrea," Miranda said, trying to pull away, but Andy held her hand firmly so that it was forced to cup her.

Miranda's pink sheened lips parted involuntarily, she drew in her breath sharply, at her hand on Andrea so intimately held there.

"Ms. Priestly must stand absolutely still. Ms. Priestly must do whatever I tell her and nothing else," Andrea said harshly.

"Does Ms. Priestly understand?"

Miranda just nodded gravely, feeling the slickness grow between her thighs as she looked at Andrea.

"Ms. Priestly must stand against the wall," she ordered.

Miranda had never heard Andrea be so firm before ever. Her expression showed it. "Andrea?"

"Ms. Priestly will not remove her shoes."

"Manolas." Miranda corrected. Andrea didn't have a foot phobia did she?

Andy gave her a steely look that made her chest constrict.

Fine, swallowing at Andy's eyes like that on hers, her black lace Manolas Blahniks pumps were not just any shoes.

Not to her. But to Andrea. These. Were mere footwear.

She complied, her back straight and breasts high, waiting near the wall.

Andy stood over her, only inches away, carefully helping in removing her black boucle jacket off her shoulders, letting it fall to the carpet, Miranda felt Andy's hands smooth over her covered breasts slowly with thumbs and forefingers seeking her nipples under the thin folds of silk of her blouse.

Long fingers found them and pinched them, peaking erect and arched for her.

Miranda's hardened nipples sought the touch of her mouth that did not come.

"I said Ms. Priestly is not to move. Understood."

Chewing her lip. "Yes."

In spite of her being told not to move and her sworn resolution she wouldn't move, she pressed her body away from the wall, towards Andy's, but Andrea pushed her shoulders back.

"I told Ms. Priestly not to move," Andy commanded in a firmer voice, and with one hand she continued to tease one of her nipples while, with the other, it moved with deliberate slowness down over the skirt that covered Miranda's lower body until it reached the mound she sought.

Andrea stopped there.

Parting her rouged mouth open, waiting expectantly. _"Please."_

Andy only held her hand on Miranda's sex and tenderly stroking with slow caress of her fingers not into it but grazing softly against it.

Again Miranda tried to arch with her so that she could come in contact with Andrea's body more, but Andy forced her to stay immobile while her fingers gradually started molding material of her skirt until it slipped between her legs, stroking and pulling on her with a maddening touch of her and silk and her lace, it was now done with light softness, now withdrawing, now venturing boldly along with feeling the silk and brushing her lacy panties barrier more.

Seeing her breathing became shallow as she waited, for Andrea to take them off her, slip them down as her white head was thrown back in absolute abandonment, against the wall.

The silk of her panties had grown wet.

"Ms. Priestly may kneel near the chair," Andy ordered.

Miranda opened her eyes of blue "I …"

"Ms. Priestly will do as I tell her." Andy's tone brooked no refusal.

Miranda crossed her office, her blue eyes cast down to the cream carpet, determined not to allow Andrea to see her expression.

Her skirt flowed sinuously around her lower body as she knelt, Andrea made to kneel down in front of her but only raised her up and took a hold of her skirt to bunch her waist as fingers Miranda wanted badly to touch her skin, only peeled down her lacy lingerie to make her lovely proffered bottom naked, her legs still in her heels, which were covered by half silk stockings, her pale milky thighs were cleft by a thin line of white hair.

Andy moved over to one of the chairs and sat down indolently.

For a long few minutes that felt like six centuries to Miranda, Andrea just looked at her, lifting her eyes up to pierce chocolate honey that just stared and treated her like an exhibit at the MOMA, knowing Andrea must be savoring her position of powerlessness, until slowly and wordlessly Andy got up and bent forward and sunk down to join her and pressed one of her fingers to Miranda's mouth and traced the shape of it, doing this a few times, being very delicate with her lower lip as Miranda tongue flicked out licking its owner's one fingertip.

"I warned you. Ms. Priestly."

Wishing she'd just kiss her, Miranda was told to close her eyes coldly, fine, it wasn't every day she was lying on her own office's cream carpet yielding to her ex-assistant who had to have a mouth that might have been that of any beautiful woman's mouth, but it was Andrea's moving down the center of her body and skimming wet along her skin and now kissing her between her legs

She moaned. Gripping Andrea's hair for leverage.

Pulling away from her that made Miranda almost yank her back in place.

"If Ms. Priestly makes any sound, I shall stop," she threatened, with serious brown eyes meaning it.

Miranda nodded in absolute obedience, trust Andrea to be _so"_ …catching her breath at the nuzzling kisses from a dark head bent between her legs …" _soo good at this_ , forcing herself to remain still, restraining herself from any response made from her lips, so that all her senses were wholly concentrated on the hot flicks of Andy's tongue, and on the tormenting play of her lips and teeth.

Andrea's lips were sucking and loving her gently and languidly with probing continuous flicks to her clit, a dark head between her smooth thighs as she began to quiver and buck into a slow silent climax.

For a moment they both lay silently on the carpet, spent as Miranda's fingers ran lovingly through her bent hair.

Lifting her head, looking up into her eyes, lying there, resting her cheekbone on Miranda's hip. "Has Ms. Priestly any further need of me?" Her voice was yielding, that of a willing assistant.

With an arch on the carpet, she lazily lay her white head back, Miranda almost didn't know what to say back to Andrea.

This was just like what she wanted and wrote. Embarrassed she was still in her glasses and only her heels and she hadn't even reciprocated back.

Asked briskly again. "Has Ms. Priestly any further need of me?"

"No, Andrea. Not tonight," she said curtly.

Andy got to her feet, buttoned her shirt up, and opened the office door, leaving without another word.

Miranda just lay on the carpet completely dazed, touching her lips, which Andrea had not once kissed.

Realizing she just left.

Was Andrea now freed of her as she'd said earlier? Taking off her glasses, she felt that her eyes were now wet.

Getting up, she smoothed down her skirt, grasping up her discarded panties that were on the carpet, wriggling them on.

How could Andrea do that to her. Love her, no use her like that and leave her. After they'd both done this, in her office.

It hurt worse than Paris did.

She didn't even take off her clothes or let her touch her back.

* * *

Bloody hell, Nigel was right.

Emily had only came back to check on Miranda. She worried, Andrea had a knack for upsetting Miranda maybe not meaning to but she just did.

Emily wasn't an idiot, knowing instantly without one word, they'd had sex. She vowed with a flexed jaw she'd never mention it. Ever.

What the hell did that American do to her?

Like Paris wasn't enough.

Rummaging in her Hermes purse, producing from inside a smaller cosmetic bag, her essentials, tissues, face wipes, she had almost everything needed to fix Miranda.

Maybe not for this though. Broken hearts post coitus weren't her area of expertise.

Drunken cuddles with Murray her dog watching funny sitcoms was as close as she got to extend her affection to something that breathed.

Setting about making a cup of tea for her. Her late Mum always offered tea for anything terrible occurring.

Having sex with Andrea must be up there.

Emily placed the teapot on the counter, it was wrapped in a tea towel.

Catching Miranda's eye.

"Improvised tea cosie. My Mum."

Getting spoons out, she felt like lacerating Andrea's fat eyes with one.

Using Andy's mug without thinking offering it, which just made Miranda start having a wobbly, what her father would call it.

Fine, Emily would endure Andrea's germs. Giving the vile tiger logo, a very disgusted look. Holding it between her laced fingers.

This was bad if Andrea's mug even undid her. This was why Mrs. MacManus in Sex Ed was so right, sex was plain disgusting and sticky to participate in.

"Do you date Emily?"

Emily almost shook her red head, almost admitting out, words of "No, not really, because I am committed to you 24/7 but instead lying. "Some." Did watching rom coms on Netflix count?

"Miranda?" Emily swallowed, here goes breaking a rule. "Andrea didn't hurt you tonight did she?"

Waving her hand out towards her mortified. It's just she was still crying.

That brought on what her Da in his black cab would avoid at all cost in fares. Blubberers.

Taking in Miranda's state apprehensively.

Emily was going to go find Andrea, how dare she do this to her boss, true Miranda wasn't sitting listening to Celine Dion on repeat and stroking a cat but she'd really upset her.

Emily had had her fair share of total emotionally stunted incompetent twats, her older brothers fitting that bill, but Andrea was more bordering on total arsehole after sex.

Yes, Emily usually only lost it, if her Tesco chips were not in at Myers of Keswick or on the phone to her Da in Croydon insisting she come home at once and get married to any beer lout in a football jersey.

Have the highlight of her week be fish and chips. Why couldn't she be happy working at a counter at Debenhams till she's ancient like sixty. No thanks.

She'd never once lost it at Andrea working with her, not over the calls being answered wrong, or the stealing of Paris right from her, no Andrea Sachs was going to encounter a full on Charlton temper.

As soon as she could find her.

* * *

Andy had earlier wanted to get buzzed tonight with her work colleagues to just forget Miranda Priestly for once.

What was she doing really by sending coffees to her this week? Reminding Miranda she existed.

Her new job was _alright._

She was writing now finally. It wasn't Runway in any comparison. It had desks and chairs and she could even sit at hers without having to run out on every Miranda errand.

She could even wear jeans and nobody at The Mirror cared what she wore or if she brushed her hair.

Also she could take an hour for lunch if she wanted but it didn't have Miranda, someone she found she needed to see every morning.

She never expected that Stephen, Miranda's ex would start this for her.

Invited out to drinks by a few co-workers, Andy accepted, they'd chosen a mid-town bar. Talking about everything and nothing. Her shoulder was tapped by a suit.

Turning to him, Andy almost dropped her drink.

Stephen just looked at her. Running his eyes over the person his wife desired most, more than he ever was, standing in front of her at a bar.

She had pretty eyes he'd admit that.

"Here."

It was a small journal, and it was red.

Andy was forced to take it as she balanced her beer bottle.

What the hell was this from Stephen Tomlinson?

"Read it, she wrote about you."

"Wrote about me?" Andy looked confused at Stephen.

"Miranda wrote in this about what she desires. Which is only you. Read what she wants."

Miranda's husband wanted her to read it, it was a diary of Miranda's entries. What the hell did he mean Miranda wrote about her and desires her? If this some sick joke on her.

Andy's face scrunched her opinion of him as he just stared at her again strangely, placing it in her hand and insisted she read it and maybe do something with it as he left.

Opening the first page, the sound of the bar was numbed out as Andy read the first page at the bar and read on engrossed by Miranda's words.

Holding her beer bottle in mid swig, mouth open as her brows knotted. Miranda wrote this?

Andy closed the last page in a daze and despite a few people squeezing her shoulder to come back and have another drink, she made her way out with one thing on her mind.

Find Miranda.

Now, presently Andy had left Miranda's office for two reasons warring in her. One she'd gone to Runway to start this _nice slow careful_ with Miranda, and then they'd done it…

Two. She didn't honestly know what happens next.

What if it was just a kinky itch Miranda needed to scratch, what if Andy was just some one time only? A plaything. Turning back she saw Miranda's tears.

Crap. She caused them. Almost stepping back over and inside to her. Hesitating, without that red journal, they never got along, Miranda thought she was fat and said it, to her face.

Also disappointing by the reference to John she'd learned of in her interview.

Andy stopped as she saw Emily going into Miranda, deciding she didn't need her around.

That was that, there was no turning back, she'd given Miranda her secret dirty little fantasy.

It wasn't like Miranda wrote more, like them dating or anything just about having sex.

She had to clear her head and go somewhere she always went when she was wrecked by Miranda's words.

Emily found her in one of the stalls. She'd phoned Security and they had told her no one fitting Andy's description had left the building.

Clicking laced Manolos stopped on the stall, Andy sat in.

Holding one up nail polished finger up to Andy.

"Andrea I let Paris that you stole from me go. It was just only fashion week for me. My dream since I was six. My world didn't end. I let you being completely wrong for assisting Miranda do your job mildly better then a lesser primate but only with my full on instructions but _I will not let you hurt her_. Which you do so brilliantly."

Andy made to interrupt, Emily was still in her face.

Shaking her hair sprayed head seething. "I didn't give you permission to speak." Searching Andrea's face. "Tell me, Is Miranda just a slut to you?"

"What? No."

"So you just treat someone like Miranda who is not a slut to you, like a discard- able shag with no feelings to value, she's just a pleasuring orgasming receptacle to you?"

Wincing at how Emily put it.

"No she's not that."

"I wanted to start this slow and carefully, I really did Em, but it didn't exactly happen like that with her…"

Emily almost snorted, since when had Andrea ever been careful and considerate around Miranda. "Andrea?"

"Yeah Em?"

"Don't call me Em." Emily meant it.

"Seeing it now. "You're afraid?" Her surprised eyes holding Andrea's carefully.

Andy nodded morosely.

"Why?" Emily voice gentled. "She's everything you want, right?"

Andy's face told her so.

"Now go make it right. You blinkered fat ass!" Acidly urged with a jab of her fingers.

"How do I do that?"

Emily sighed out as if Andrea made her mental, taking up Andy's phone, searching for it, curving a small smile she hid, discovering that Andrea kept _her_ number in her phone.

It was sweet.

"I'll say this only once. So listen. Don't be anything like Stephen ever. First, you have to make her feel special since you had sex with her."

"Thanks I think."

"Take Miranda somewhere nice, where she will not be offensively surprised. Make sure it even has tablecloths."

Emily carefully suggested, presuming Andrea's idea of a splurging on a date was probably taking her to a Subway.

"Ok-kay but how do I talk to her?"

"Honestly Andrea you're the writer, tell her what you feel. Use Words. Something you often use little Miss Fat Journalist." Shoving her own phone back at her.

"Tell her what you want to happen with her next. Alright."

Emily knew this month she was imbibing herself with a case of sauvignon, knowing that this now meant she'd be bringing The Book and Miranda's dry cleaning to wherever it was Andrea lived.

Tell her, it was not in Bushwick?

Her phone pinged. Looking down it was not a call, just a text came in. Seeing it was from Andrea. Prickling at it.

Almost deleting it in sheer spite.

Scrolling it with narrowed hurt eyes that grew softer with each word she read, with three dots bouncing indicating she was still typing it out.

" _Ms. Priestly. I hope to fulfill more entries of yours in days, weeks and or possibly years."_ Miranda bit her lip at that, Andrea envisioned years with her.

Her blues eyes flickered along reading more words to her.

 _But you never wrote, if you like the left side or the right side of a bed?_

 _See I simply must know these things._

 _I want to wake up beside you at 2am and know there with you is where I am supposed to be_

 _I will warn you, I live downtown…_

 _No Emily doesn't need to send sheets for our bed._

 _Since, I've gone to the trouble of soon purchasing said sheets and a toothbrush._

 _$3.50 at my Bodega._

 _Toothbrush not sheets. I even have an account. No it is nothing like yours at Bergdorf's._

 _Stephen may give you Harry Winston diamonds, but only I can give you buttered bagels on credit._

Miranda held her phone fondly. Yes Stephen could give her diamonds but he also made her feel horrible being with him and he drank and she now only wanted someone real.

Andrea was real. But she still hurt her.

Scrolling Andrea's message intently with more dots.

 _I will be thrilled to tell Emily to arrange delivery of The Book for our forthcoming future together. I fear Emily may need Lexapro prescribed from this news._

There was a pause. In the stall Andy was poked by one of Emily's sharp nails which hurt.

 _I, also must share most mornings I am a tea-drinker and you my one and only, can only survive on copious graceful sips of many caffeinated beverages brought to you._

 _I want to avert this coffee apocalypse for us, so I have even decided to invest in fancy coffee machine._

 _I await your reply._

 _Know this, pink princess toothbrush and sheets cannot be returned. Nor can coffee machine._

 _If you'd like to make a life together with me. I'll leave my key with Roy._

Miranda ran her tapered fingers across her lower lip, Andrea wanted more and she was giving her a key, pressing her lips together, with an idea.

Finding it on a hanger in the Closet.

Nigel was going to discover tomorrow morning it was missing, she needed to have this dress she slipped on and he'd just gushed about all week, she was intent on wearing it now.

Holding her phone up. With one question to Andrea.

 **Will this compliment our sheets?**

Typing a hasty reply back. **No. But it will look good on my floor.**

Typing out to Andrea a quick few words that this designer dress was not meant for any floor, even Andrea's bedroom floor, changing her mind she just call her instead.

Emily over her shoulder mouthed Ning's Bodega with a lip curl. Making a list with a swipe, One pink princess toothbrush and a set of sheets and a coffee machine.

Murray her pet mutt, had less demands on her.

Emily left Andrea in the stall with a huff, Blimey, this was going to be very weird to get used to, Miranda and Andrea a couple in one night.

Switching to Face Time, both just stared at each other

Only less than an hour ago they'd…

"You left. You didn't even kiss me or let me love you back. Why?" Miranda accused out.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know how to be after we'd done that…I was _scared_ that you didn't want me to stay after we had sex. Miranda, I guess because you didn't write more in that book of yours. I didn't know how you'd want me to be next."

Andy looked so contrite at her on screen.

Miranda cradled the phone, tracing Andy's face. "Andrea. I wrote how I wanted you. About my entries I never did write about, say us, doing other things. I do want you to take me…

Take her. Andy flushed, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Andrea, out. Take me out." Leaning into the screen more, the dress fit Miranda like it was made for her.

"Sure." Andy hoarsed which just made Miranda smile wickedly more.

"Also a few dates with me once in a while would be nice, I do have to stay over at least three nights a week."

"Really?" Andy's voice vibrated, her cheeks hurt from smiling.

"See, I really want that Barbie princess toothbrush."

"Oh it's all for the Barbie toothbrush I see."

Forming a toothy smile now, Andy outlined her with one finger pressed on screen, outlining her v line. This woman had been tangled to her beyond Andy's reading the red journal and loving her with her mouth and fingers and heart long before tonight.

"Andrea no copping a feel before our date."

Retracting her hand from the screen. "So, since it's a date, should I splurge and get you flowers at a stand?"

Miranda stiffened with feigned indignation. "Ms. Sachs! Flowers, and a date after sex. Whatever will we do on our second?"

Andy leaned into the screen closer with a lopsided grin spreading on her face. "I'm pretty sure we can think of something. Ms. Priestly."

That salutation made Miranda go an interesting shade of pink.

"About this practicing kissing. I think we need to meet up sooner."

"Oh you think, that we need to meet up?" Miranda leaned closer in the screen.

"Yeah. I've just got to know how you liked to be kissed. It wasn't covered in your journal."

"How remiss of me." Seeing Andrea on screen holding her phone in front of her. "Where are you?"

Andy didn't first answer her, where she was. "Where I usually went to hide when I encountered you turning my world upside down."

"Hiding? You use to hide from me. Where?"

"Bathroom, last stall." Andy supplied.

"I should've said this earlier, it's something you need to know, after we did that…I love you." Damn signal inside this bathroom.

Silent on her end, Andrea had just said she loved her.

Coming back on the phone clearer to her. "I said I love you. Miranda.'' Miranda had heard it before.

"You do?" Spoken so softly, that Andy strained to hear her, leaning near her glass desk in the gown.

Cupping her phone. "Andy I-I love you." Her brows drew together as soon as she said this, seeing Andrea had just ended their call, just like that.

Pressing call back, not picking.

Andy rushed down the elevator and had to go get this. Searching her jean's pocket. She done this whole thing backwards, she was supposed to bring this first, that she was just buying and handed twenty dollars for, making her way back into the lobby as she plucked a few to add to it.

Miranda was going to hate them.

Miranda didn't find her hiding in the last stall, calling out for her as she made her way back to her office, slumping into her desk chair.

Where had Andrea gone to?

A rap on her doorframe, looking up to sparkling brown eyes holding out flowers that did not belong together from a street stand or from a drugstore and Miranda was positive some were stolen from arrangement in the main lobby.

Taking the bouquet that was hideous but sweet.

"Yes. I do. I want to be with you. Miranda…and I love you. Now about kissing you tonight." Andy greeted her with a kiss which dipped her down against the desk as Andy climbed over her pressed to the desk.

Pulling back staring at something on it.

"What? What is it?" Caressing the back of Andrea's neck, half pressing a kiss along her hairline. Was it Irv's board picture with her in it looking like she was in need of an enema.

It was taken at one of those horrid bonding work fun day for the Elias Clarke family meant to incorporate how everyone got along.

"Is _that_ my mug?"

Seeing with eyes lit up, it was, unless Miranda had an infinity for supporting her old high school mascot.

"Have you been using _my mug_?" Andy just grinned over her.

"I do not use _that thing."_ Denying it quickly as Miranda leaned up on her elbows.

"You kept it." Andy grinned into another kiss given from Miranda.

"Do you drink from it?" Shocked that Miranda hadn't binned it in some after colossal Paris dragon meltdown at her.

"No Andrea I juggle it, we're practicing kissing aren't we? Not learning about what vessels I value sentimentally to drink from." Quirking a sexy smile up to the brunette.

"Right. Shall I continue with more of this, Ms. Priestly?" Leaning her lips down to linger over hers teasingly.

"Yes. More my Andrea."

"I got to get a little red journal too."

"Oh."

"I've got fantasies for you to fulfill." Andy promised her, leaning into a gentler and very slow loving kiss to her white haired lady beneath her.


End file.
